


among the wildflowers

by Pontmercyingtilthecowscomehome



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dathomir (Star Wars), F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, Friends to Lovers, No age gap, Sleeping Beauty Elements, TW Poison, TW blood mentioned, slowburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:07:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22051528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pontmercyingtilthecowscomehome/pseuds/Pontmercyingtilthecowscomehome
Summary: Sleeping Beauty retellingA princess falls asleep and only one true of heart can wake her.Set before the events of Rogue One, with no age gap for Cassian and Leia
Relationships: Cassian Andor & Leia Organa, Cassian Andor/Leia Organa
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	among the wildflowers

There is no wind on Coruscant. No point in opening windows, not when the only thing that will enter is the noise and chaos of the city. No point in pretending the small hydro-fan blowing the tiniest of artificial breezes is anything like the wild winds that made the wildflowers in Alderaan’s fields dance.

Leia had danced among them, many times, as a girl. She had thrown back her head to feel the sunlight on her face and the wind in her hair. Spun around, her barefoot toes sinking deep into muddy soil.

But there is no point in pretending that she is a carefree little girl any longer. She is a princess, a senator, and, most importantly, a spy for the Rebel Alliance.

It is that last thought which gives Leia the strength to keep her head held high as yet another pin is jammed into her hair, while, on the other side of her head, grasping fingers twist another section of locks into another tiny braid. She needs to do this so she can walk among the Empire’s elite. She must fool them into trusting her.

But she is scared, nervous enough that her clenched fists leave crescent-nail marks on her tender palms. Her gaze flicks to the three attendants who are currently hard at work creating the complicated presentation hairstyle that Breha had designed for Leia. But the attendants were not there when Breha had made the drawings, indeed, they had never been to Alderaan. The attendants had been provided by the Emperor, a so-called gift to the newest Senator.

Leia knows what they really were: spies. She knew, because she was one as well, only for the other side. While others might fight battles with blasters and battleships, she must fight hers with secrets and smiles, wielding her words as both shield and weapon.

A pin pricks her scalp and she lets out a tiny squeak, the smallest break in her composure. “Sorry, milady,” one says. Her voice is as cold as her fingers. There is a coldness in both humanoid attendants, a chill deeper than any Leia has encountered. She cannot name it, so she tries to forget it.

“What’s your name?” Leia asks.

“Azui, if it pleases your highness.”

“What are you called, truly?” Leia asks. She presses her hand to her scalp, despite Azui’s protests, and is startled to find a drop of blood there. When she’d practiced the design with her mother, the pins had been blunt on the edges.

She shouldn’t be surprised. Of course, even the simplest of hair ornaments here in the heart of the Empire would be dangerous and needlessly cruel.

“There is no such thing as true, only what you wish to believe.” Azui states, folding her hands behind her back. She is tall, far taller than Leia, and her red eyes always seem to peer past Leia, never looking directly at her. Her eyes are in stark contrast to her deep green skin, the color of a tree covered in moss.

“Fine,” Leia snaps, applying pressure to the tiny wound. All the while, the attendants on her other side, a droid and another human, work together to complete the rest of the hairstyle. “I do wish you’d trust me.”

“Trust is not easily given, especially not when it is demanded.” Azui replies. “You have a great deal to learn of the ways of a Senator, your highness.”

Leia’s eyes narrow. She had told herself that these attendants must have been forced to work for the Empire, that no one would willingly agree to spy for such wretched men. And yet, that strange sense deep within her heart, the one that is always true, warns Leia not to trust Azui at all. That perhaps this woman has made a deal with the Emperor out of selfish, not noble, reasons.

“I merely meant…” Leia begins, trying to maintain a sense of decorum she’d been trained to use at all times. But her thoughts have gone fuzzy, making it hard to remember exactly what her mother had once taught her. Lessons involving the proper brewing of Xudu tea mingle with memories of dancing class, ballgowns swishing across the floor.

Leia clears her throat. “Are you loyal to the Empire, Azui?” It is not a question she should have asked. But it bubbles up, as she fights to keep herself anchored in the present moment.

“My loyalty is reserved for my sisters.”

Sisters? Leia blinks. She tries to lift her hand to her head once more, but her hand feels too heavy to move.

The fuzziness in her head blooms into a true aching pain, a pressure building behind her eyes. Leia closes them, trying hard to take a deep breath. The memories swirl faster now, spinning just as she had once done on the cold marble floors of the palace, practicing her waltz. Spinning, too, as she once had, among the wildflowers, when she had been free.

Her hand finally lifts. There’s a drop of blood on it, from the wound on her scalp. Or had she pricked her own finger? Why couldn’t she remember?

Azui watches her with cold silver eyes.

Leia puts the finger to her lips, just to feel if there is a wound there. The blood is bitter and sharp, metallic to the taste.

It’s wrong. Something is wrong;.

Azui’s hand lifts in synchrony with the other attendant, the one who always seems to slide out of Leia’s vision, the one who never speaks. Together, the two attendants whisper an ancient chant. The hydro-fan whirls all the louder, a mockery of the breeze Leia had once loved. The fog grows around her, white like the dress she wears, but scented not with sweet wild flowers, but a choking, cloying perfume.

“Dancing…” Leia whispers.

***

_With her eyes closed, she remembers, or perhaps she dreams of a young man offering her his hand, asking her to dance. Leia had laughed at the request. “You’re not supposed to be here,” she said._

_“Why not?” he asks, with a bright twinkle in his eyes, exactly like that of the stars above her. The ballroom of the royal palace is capped with a grand glass ceiling, showing all the cosmos above. The same colors and patterns could be found in Leia’s own gown, a heavy blue velvet, studded with flashing gems mined deep within Kuat._

_But Leia thinks that no dress, no royal garment, has ever looked as fine as the simple guard’s uniform the man in front of her wears. He’s slender, narrow and lithe, so the dark lines and simple decorations of the jacket lead her gaze down to his hands. Those, too, are beautiful; rugged and strong._

_Leia can feel the calluses and knows they are those of a sniper’s, though she tells herself they come from gardening._

_“You’re supposed to be on a mission,” Leia whispers, as they step together, back onto the marble floor. His footsteps are silent, as benefits a spy, and his smile is honest, as benefits a young man in love._

_“Who is to say I am not?” Cassian’s head tilts. His free hand comes to rest gently, on Leia’s hip._

_“What, a guard duty mission? I highly doubt they’d waste a Fulcrum agent protecting a princess on this peaceful world.” They speak freely, because they speak a coded language very few know._

_Cassian merely shrugs. He steps forward in the dance, taking the lead. Some nights, it is Leia who guides them in spinning turns across the floor. But tonight, she allows him this chance, lets him dictate the speed and style of the dance._

_Leia sighs. “I wish Papa would give me a mission.”_

_“He wants to keep you safe.”_

_“He wants to lock me away, until I’m old and useless.”_

_“Quite dramatic.”_

_“Aren’t I always?” Leia teases, moving into an effortless turn. She never dances this well when others watch. She feels their stares like weights attached to her limbs, pulling her down, freezing her in place. Only in the night, with merely the moon and stars above, watching, can she dance as well as she dreams._

_“Sometimes,” Cassian admits. “Other times you’re merely impossible.”_

_Leia laughs. She wishes she could tell him a hundred more impossible things, wishes that she could kiss him, here under the stars. But the only touch they can share is hand to hand, the only future they have is lived out in the course of one song a night._

_Because Leia will soon have missions and Cassian will always have his and there will never be a night their stars will rest again in the same sky._

_Or so it seems to them that night, with the harvest moon of Alderaan hanging low in the sky above them and all of their hopes hidden in the shadows._

_They dance, until fog rolls in, thick and cold. It’s unnatural, Leia thinks, but she keeps dancing, anyway. It’s what she’s trained to do. To smile and to perform her role, no matter what. She dances, even as Cassian’s hand slips out of her own. It feels as if he is being pulled away from her by something as strong as the tide.Something terrible and sudden, something even she cannot fight._

_She dances, even as the palace itself crumbles away, turning into nothing more than dust._

_She dances, until the stars in the sky themselves fade away._

The memory of the dream flickers away as the pain grows. It spreads from her head to her neck, her shoulders. Leia is on fire, every nerve burning. She lets out a gasp--or maybe a scream-- and crumples to the ground.

Her vision goes as black as the night without stars.

***

“It is done,” Jerserra says, her eyes fading back to their natural silver, as the dark magick of the Dathomir ebbs once more within her. If anyone had seen her in that moment, they would know her as she truly is, a deadly witch, a powerful warrior. A singular survivor of Dathomir. Fog from the hydro-fan swirls around her feet. “We leave. Now.”

Her sister’s hand flashes out, striking the droid that had watched over them at the request of the Emperor. A second later, its headless body crumples to the ground. “Pity,” the woman who had gone by the name of Azui says, staring at Leia’s limp body. “She would have made a fine Nightsister. She is strong in power.”

Jerserra laughs. “This one? Don’t be foolish. I have seen her greatest fear. It is vapid and pointless, meaningless. She is nothing.”

“As are all who oppose us.” Azui states, her eyes scanning the room once more, ensuring no one had watched them complete their fell task.

The Nightsisters move forward, in harmony, working together to pry open the window. Jerserra kicks the small hydro-fan out first, hiding any evidence of the drug-infused fog they’d used to start sedating the princess.

It had been enough to make her lower her impressive Force-defenses, allowing Jerserra to pry into her memories, twisting them into nightmares. The Emperor had wanted her to suffer, before she died.

The poison from the hairpin will do the rest. It had been made on Dathomir, a lifetime ago. Made and perfected, and now, deployed to do its work.

“What was her fear?” Azui asks.

Jerserra laughs, just once. The feral noise echoes as the two sneak out of the window next. “She fears being alone. As if we are not all alone, alone until we die.”

“Then she will soon conquer her fear,” Azui’s voice turns mocking. “A speedy death to the fair princess, May she be reunited with those she loves.” It’s an epithet meant for a grave, Azui thinks, a solitary wish of ill-will.

The Nightsisters disappear into the chaos of Coruscant's underbelly.

***

The Princess’s door opens. Soft, nearly silent footsteps rush across the room, to the princess’s prone body. The man drops to his knees, his thick grey uniform slowing his movements. He curses the uniform, the day, even the stars. He does so silently, because he is a spy, and he is trained to lock away all his emotions. But even Cassian Andor cannot lock away the tremor in his hand as he reaches for her. His shaking fingers brush away the chestnut locks that had tumbled free of her braids.

She is still. So still. Even in her sleep, the princess is never this still. She tosses and turns, chatters and snores, as if her lively nature cannot be confined, not even by sleep. 

He knows this, because Cassian had checked on her each night she had stayed on this star-forsaken planet. He had guarded her door, as much as a low-level Imperial officer could, stalking past as if on a mission to visit another’s bed.

He hadn’t been lying when he had said he was on a mission.

He had been lying every time he hadn’t said he loved her.

Now, all of his lies crash down around him, shattering like glass. His hand cups her cheek, then slides back, toward her scalp. His fingers find the wound. It’s still wet with blood, which is enough to startle him out of his grief spiral.

With his free hand, Cassian digs in his pocket for a narrow durasteel container, enclosed within a glass protector. He flicks it open, revealing an impossibly small centrifuge, a tool to spin out the foreign particles from a sample.

He places the drop of blood inside, s1huts the lid, ad closes his eyes. If only he’d said something, one of those nights they’d danced. If only she had known he was here, with her, deep inside the Empire’s controlled city.

If only, if only.

The tool flashes green. A match has been found. Cassian’s heart hammers all the harder, threatening to crack against his ribs.

He looks down at the flashing green read-out.

_Dragon’s Tongue. A poison from Dathomir. Antidote must be--_

Those last three words fuel his actions, as hope surges inside him. If the princess is only sleeping, if he still has a chance to save her, he will do anything.

_Antidote must be administered orally._

Cassian’s motions still. A blush heats his cheeks. “Forgive me, princess,” he whispers, smoothing his hand over her shoulder, hoping that perhaps she will wake now, in this quiet moment

She does not. Her body is heavy in his arms. Cassian knows what must be done, that, though, to him, it feels over-bold, it is to save her life. He keeps the Princess in his arms, her head pillowed on his lap, her gown spread out around them, white as bone.

The other side of the same tool allows him to prepare the antidote. It takes him almost no time; after all, this is what he has practiced all his life. Cassian had trained in the same palace Leia had been raised, though their lessons could not have diverged more sharply. His path was one of shadows and death. Leia’s was light and life, He was a being of change, shifting into new faces, new roles, with each passing day. She was constant, as constant and bright as dawn. They existed, each in their own roles, each moving in their own orbits, always apart.

Only at night, when they danced together, could the moon touch the sun.

When he works on the antidote, he notices one of the ingredients it calls for is wildflowers, specifically from the fields of Alderaan, and he smiles. Though he needs not go and gather the supplies, as his equipment is capable of reproducing them, Cassian allows himself to daydream, only for a moment, walking through the fields, the long grass brushing his calves, the sun on his bare skin, the scent of flowers in the air.

He’d seen her dance, there among the wildflowers. Only once, but it had been enough for him to fall in love.

The antidote is complete. The tool alerts him to this with a single beep. Still with one arm around the princess, his other reaches in to tap his fingertip against the cold mixture. He knows of this antidote, knows there is only one way to deliver it that will ensure it is warm enough to melt.

He knows too, that to swallow the antidote if one does not have the poison in their blood will also lead to death.

Even good things can kill.

With the antidote on his lips and hope rising in his heart, Cassian leans down. Softly, gently, as swiftly as a falling star streaks across the sky, Cassian kisses the princess.

He holds his breath.

Then, with a shudder, Leia gasps. Her first breath is shuddering and weak, but her second is stronger. By the third, she is breathing normally once more. She is awake, alive, safe.

She is safe. His mission is complete.

Just as he’s pulling away, he feels her hand, cold still, but warming with each passing second, reach for him. She pulls him close, clinging to him, not in weakness, but in relief. The kiss deepens, turning into something they have both craved for so long.

This isn’t part of the mission. Cassian wants to tell her that they shouldn’t, that he’s no prince, nothing more than a spy. That just because he saved her doesn’t mean that she needs to pretend to love him.

But Leia’s eyes open and she smiles at him. “You’re here. It was just… it was just a bad dream.”

The fog around them is gone, but with the window open, Cassian catches a small whiff of its bitter perfume. It must have been enough to sedate her, before the poison set in. Cassian shakes his head. He’s not sure what she means, wonders if the poison is still within her. “No, Leia. It was no dream. There was real poison. I-”

Cassian’s protests stop when Leia kisses his scruffy cheek. “No,” she says. “The dream I had where I lost you. That was just a dream.”

“It was,” he says, though he does not completely understand. He can only hold her closer, cradling her against his chest. His still-racing heart thuds like a war drum. “Just a dream. I am here now.”

Leia’s hand finds his and holds tight. “I love you,” she says. “I’m sorry, I should have told her sooner.”

“Now is fine, I think.” Cassian smiles back at her.

“You’re wearing an officer’s uniform?” Leia takes in the grey wool, the cap he’d left at her side.

“I arrived the day before you did.”

“Then we will have to leave together.” Leia says, with all the authority of a princess.

“I would like that.” He thinks, just maybe, that there may be one day where he and the princess dance among the wildflowers, free of all the confines and duties of the palace.

He thinks there is a future, now, earned not by deed, but by hope.

He thinks, now, that this moment is better than any dream. The kiss had awoken the Princess but her words had healed his heart. The moon and the sun rest together and for a little while, the universe is at peace.


End file.
